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I can't think of any plant more maligned than the lowly, lovely dandelion. Though it has its admirers, they are far outnumbered by those determined to ambush it every year with battalions of weapons aimed to obliterate it. It is a miraculous piece of nature with a divine
life cycle.
I wish it weren't a sonnet. I see no reason for it to be. I can feel your voice trying to squeeze into a form that requires a scheme and a meter that just doesn't fit, imo. Maybe dandelions are more suited to another form? I could see it as a visual poem...
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